


Her Will

by grumblecakes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Blood Kink, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Medical Kink, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Smut, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 06:39:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13805586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumblecakes/pseuds/grumblecakes
Summary: Moira, Angela, and Genji find themselves in a tangle of sex and emotion as the Shimada Project comes to fruition. Moira is not a kind woman, Mercy is, and Genji doesn't know what he is anymore.-Moira often finds herself described as self-controlled, disciplined, cold. She plays that role well, and there is some truth to it. But as she stands over Genji Shimada, Overwatch's ambitious reclamation project spearheaded by her and Angela Zielger, she finds those traits failing her.  She had long fantasized about a moment like this. Complete control. She couldn't let it pass. No amount of role-playing could ever match the intoxicating possibility of the real thing. This pretty little playboy would be hers in a way that no one else ever could be. She smiles, and begins the process.





	Her Will

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the warnings, this is not a nice Moira. There will be some suffering. First of three planned chapters sees Moira using Genji's vulnerability to her own ends.

Shimada Genji preferred death.

It was not correct to say he awoke from it. No, that infinite void, the comforting nothing, was ripped from him. He was reborn from a womb of ice to a world of fire. He screamed. The tearing of his vocal cords was a massage next to the thousand knives in his skin, the blood on his lips a balm. When darkness took him it was simply darkness, as like to the void of death as a candle to the sun, but it was something.

When he truly awoke it was less traumatic than the rebirth. He hurt, true, but he did not scream. He opened his eyes this time his brain was aware enough to register sight. 

The first thing he saw... was her. 

Pale, thin, smiling, features indistinctly backlit by several too-bright lights. He could see enough to realize that she was an unknown. She was at his side, and he was fastened immobile to a long examination table.

“Good morning Shimada. Welcome back to the living.” She spoke in Japanese, only lightly accented. 

“W-who?” he expected his voice to come out a rasp. Hoarse from his screaming. He could remember the screaming. But no, it came from him relatively painless, and loud, but… distorted. “How?”

“The second question is much more interesting, but I doubt one such as you could appreciate the answer, so I'll just do the first. Doctor Moira O’Deorain. I… rebirthed you.” 

Her hand moved to his face. Long fingers made longer by three-inch nails. Talons, Genji thought. A hawk. Her movements were slow, casual but not gentle. She grasped his chin and shifted his head as if he were a doll with a swivel neck. But there was no pain. In fact… there was no sensation at all. He could not feel her touch. Those nails did not dig into his cheeks, in fact there was a faint metallic clack as she shifted her grip. 

“Is this...mask… necessary” he asked in that distorted tone. She was close enough to him for her features to be seen plainly now. Sharp, predatory. Again Genji was reminded of a hawk, and it seemed that he was the prey. Her eyes, one red the other blue, glinted with unveiled hunger. Her lips pursed in amusement at his comment.

“No, little sparrow. Or I should say, it is not simply a mask. Your brother was not so kind to that face. What is not scarred is synthetic.” There must have been enough of him left for the horror to have shown in his expression, because she reacted instantly. Moira laughed, deep and heartily. “Oh, sparrow. No need for that. I’ve been over Blackwatch's files on you, seen your photographs. Yes, you were a pretty boy, but I think I prefer the new you.” She flicked him where his nose should have been, the tink of her nail punctuation. “I don’t like pretty boys.”

For a moment Genji was himself again, all youthful pride and privilege. 

“I do not care what you like, witch. I am Shimada Genji, of the Shimada clan, you will release me from these restraints!”

“I could.” She murmured calmly. “But I am no witch, though I do work with one. You may instead Master.”

“Bitch. I don’t believe a word you’ve said. I see your overwatch insignia. Your organization has been at odds with my clan for months. Do you think this sham-” Her clawed right hand moved quick, not so quick that his training failed to track it as it went to his throat. Instinctively he brought his chin down to use that metal insult she had strapped to his face as a weapon, to dig into her wrist. With luck he’d break it. But suddenly he could not bend, her thumb and forefinger seemed to lodge deep into his jaw. He could not feel them, as such, but some sensation noted the foreign objects inside him. This frightened him. She’d be knuckle deep into his veins… had he still had them. It was very much like choking.

“First. It’s Blackwatch, dear. Overwatch subsidiary. A fine line, but a key one. Second, while my duties pertain mostly to your remaining tissue I know enough of the mechanics to disable you quite simply, as you see. Evidence enough? Finally, you are no longer a Shimada. Was that not the nature of your brotherly feud? Is that not why you are here now? But no matter.” Her left hand rose up, and he could see the nails on this much shorter. Her long, elegant fingers moved over his face brushing his exposed cheeks, thumbing the edges of his mask. There was a hiss, and the chill of fresh air assaulted his mouth. His mask had opened around him, like the petals of a macabre flower. “Happy? I am not cruel.”

“Blackwatch,” Genji growled. His unfiltered voice was hoarse now, and the words felt as if they clawed his way from his raw throat. “I’ve heard rumors. Even worse, then, to deal with creatures such as you.”

Moira chuckled softly and leaned close. Every pucker, raw patch, and crack in his skin laid bare to her gaze, and she drank it in. It was so intimate, to see the point where cicatrization failed and her treatments took over. She knew how each and every cell in him labored. A shame that they should need crude metal and plastics to aid them. That was Angela's work, of course. A breathtaking and beautiful culmination of advanced biomechanical and prosthetic surgery. It was, however merely the apex of a centuries-long, well-trod path. Moira’s work was something new and exciting. She was so close to unlocking the cell at its basic level and enslaving that elemental force to her, that is to say, humankind’s will. In Genji it was minor, a supporting role. But this was all a start. A proof of concept. There was beauty in that. In progress, however incremental. Her left thumb ran lightly over the crease at the corner of the mouth, where it had once been split. She was in close enough now that she breathed in Genji’s exhaled breath, enough to look in detail at it. Pink. Raw. Exposed. She kissed the scar, softly, reverently. As Moira pulled back, Genji spit. There was little moisture in him to work with, but the intent was there. Her expression did not change.

-

“Oh, my arrogant little prince. You still think you have some power here?”

Genji felt her nails scrape against the skin of his stomach where metal met flesh. He remembered the strike that had opened him there. For a moment panic filled him. He thought, instinctively, that the hawk would bury her talons into the wound and pull out his insides. Instead they brushed along the seam, then trailed down over the ridge of his abdomen, finding his pelvis, combing through the bristle of pubic hair, the skin underneath tightening into gooseflesh at her caress. His penis twitched and his abs tightened as she trailed lightly along the naked shaft.

“Stop that,” Genji hissed. Moira’s pale pink lips stretched into something like a smile, her mismatched eyes contracted to pinpoints.

“No.”

\-- 

Her right hand palmed his sack as if weighing it, fingers making a cage around the tight little package. The warmth of her was already loosening it. Blood slowly began to swell his penis, a slight chubbing that belied his biological imperative. Moira knew the process well, could flay him open and label every capillary and tube. But she had already done that. Now was the time to put her and Angela’s project to practical use. 

“You may say what you like, Sparrow,” she elaborated over his continued sputters of protest. “But your words are empty. Your body is telling me everything. I know it too well. I know you.” The pads of her thumb and forefinger found his left testicle and rolled it gently between them. 

-

“Ack-” The discomfort was not unbearable, almost inconsequential, but with the pleasure it accompanied his nerves lit on fire. His dick accelerated its swell, especially when the right hand snaked out and grasped it roughly. She gave it a squeeze while the other hand tickled and played with his ballsack. 

“Yes. I see the flush on your cheeks. Your breath is short. And your length,” she added wickedly, “is hard.” A light laugh accompanied Genji’s sound of disbelief and desire. He was growing flushed, but was it with shame or pleasure? He couldn’t tell the difference, not now that she had begun to stroke him. 

One last attempt. Before it was too late. Genji tensed every muscle he had, synthetic or otherwise, and strained against his restraints. His back arched from the table, his knees curved inward. He was not large but his training had made him surprisingly strong, and these new muscles were superb. There was a faint creak of metal. Maybe he could-

Moira twisted, with thumb and forefinger. Genji screamed, his body seized even tighter and tried to roll instinctively to protect his tender testicles, but still the straps held him. Then, pain down to an ache, he went limp. All of him but his prick, somehow still hard throughout, never let to rest by her inescapable, expert massage. 

\--

Her laugh twinned through his scream, and as that became a cry of despair, it deepened, throaty and genuine. 

“My will.” She slid up and ran a finger over the glans and head, collecting the precum that was now seeping inevitably from his tip. “You will surrender to it. In fact,” she mewed as she reached up and rubbed the goo under his nose, “You already have.” With a pat on his cheek the hand dropped back to its post, one two pumps then at a rapid pace, no time to readjust.

“You aren’t much to speak of down here,” She lilted as she stoked, “But you must have made it work. Blackwatch’s background interviews found your many ladies had no complaints. Not the boys either.” He began to groan more wantonly as she spoke to him, casually pleasant. A day at the office. 

“Oh, it’s fine. I don’t find myself restricted by gender either. No this isn’t about a man and woman. This is about you, and your new place in the world.” She began jacking him furiously now. It would have to be almost uncomfortable, but the head of his eager dick was beginning to swell and pulse. That would not do. Not so soon. She let go, leaving him only her right hands now gentle groping of his balls. 

“Why,” Genji choked out. She took that as a more general entreaty. 

“Why? Would you like something cheesy, like ‘Oh, I need to make sure your reproductive organs still work.’?” She laughed then squeezed his dick with the right hand. Just enough to ride the line between pain and pleasure. It was sufficient to make him moan again. This time Moira caught it with her mouth. She kissed him, deep and passionately. In Genji’s confusion and surprise he returned it instinctively. Her tongue was wet in his dry mouth, all slick and exploratory. He had nearly come to his senses, began to stop reciprocating when she pulled away, dragging her teeth over his cracked bottom lip.

“Ack~!” She bit, a quick little nibble that left a faint smear of red on both their mouths.

“Why?” she repeated. “Because you’re mine, and I can.”

She began to stroke him again. He was still thick, but softening. Must see to that. She slid her left hand over herself now, let it slip under the fabric of her silk dress pants and cotton briefs. The right slapped his dick, and as it jiggled amusingly she began to brush over her own inflamed labia. With an inaudible hiss she circled those lips, then plunged deep with three fingers. She pulled them out with a long drawing motion, sliding over her clit with a trill of pleasure. She paused in the abuse of his sorry dick to touch his split lip, replacing that hand with the other now slick with her own juice. She used this natural lube to slide along the shaft, base to tip, bunching the foreskin the drawing it down to play underneath. He was back to rock hard quickly, and it wasn’t long before it became swollen and dark once more. She tried to slide her right thumb into his mouth, but found his teeth clenched. His eyes, she now noted, were also shut tight. Unacceptable.

“Look at me, Sparrow.” When he did not she slapped him, whiplike, on the cheek. “Look.” Smack! The other cheek now. When he still ignored her she released his throbbing prick. He gasped and opened them wide.

“Wh-” She cracked him again.

“Who am I.” Her voice was dangerous. The slaps she knew were leaving him dazed. The fire on his cheeks and the throbbing of his dick both demanding attention, leaving him disoriented. The recent revival and drugs couldn't have helped either. 

“Sparrow, look at me.” He did, dark eyes seeking out ethereal red and blue. “Good. Now, who am I?”

“Moira O-” She struck him once more.

“Wrong.”

“M-master.” Tears stung his eyes. Was it from the pain or the shame of giving in?

“Good,” she crooned, not breaking eye contact as she grasped him again. When he breathed in sharply she inserted her thumb. Her pumping started in time with his heartbeat, then quickly doubled. His heart now began to match. It lasted for minutes… or was it hours, or seconds. So hard to tell for either of them. When she slowed she would trace circles over his tongue and tip simultaneously. Then suddenly the gears would shift and she’d have him hooked behind the teeth, jacking feverishly. He was leaking all over her, juice and lube frothing there to create a squelching sound. That wet noise, unmistakable one of sex, filled the room alongside his cries of ecstasy. Briefly in that frenzy a thought occurred to Genji. He could bite down. Hard. With his new synthetic jaw he might even take that thumb off. It was a fragile thought, extinguished quickly by blind pleasure. Instead, he let his lips pout, rolled his tongue over the digit, and sucked.

Moira clenched at the sensation of this new submission. Spit, tears, blood, and semen. She had all his fluids on her now. Should she go for the piss and mucus as well? Next time. Instead, she drew her hand out with a plop of suction and slid it back into her pants. She mixed his fluid with hers and, as she gave her clit a quick tease, she marveled at just how much she was enjoying herself. This was supposed to be dispassionate, clinical. That was how it went in her fantasies of this moment. But she saw the madness of lust and shame fill his eyes, blind him to everything but her will. Orgasm was near. His hips began to buck up into her fist. She stopped at the base, squeezed tight.

“No!” He gasped.

“No? Still?” Her voice was husky, but otherwise she gave no indication that she was fingering herself eagerly below the table. He knew enough not to stop looking into her eyes. “Who am I?”

“Master,” he rasped whorishly. She quickened her own pleasure but held his quivering prick tight.

“Correct. Do you want to cum sparrow?”

“Yes.”

“Yes…?”

“Yes, Master,” he keened. “Please. Please, I’m yours, just let me cum.” She loosened her grip and slid up the throbbing member, rubbed her palm at the head, then fell into a powerful rhythm. She left her weeping pussy to take his throat, just as she did earlier, and jack his aching cock ruthlessly. When his eyes began to bulge, that's when she leaned in close, the tips of her nipples poking his shoulder through her shirt, her lips over his ear. A lick, then a whisper. 

“Go on then, boy. Cum for me.”

Like a flicked switch he came, his ass and hips bucking, muscles new and old tensing and straining. Long white strands pulsed out of his cock, one, two, three ball emptying spurts.His groan of pleasure was almost a sob.

When it was all over, and the last of his quakes subsided, Moira released him. She held her arm up like a surgeon after a wash. She spread her fingers and watched with interest as his cum stretched out in little strings of protein.

“I didn’t say you could get your slime on me,” She said coldly, even as her unfulfilled pussy ached.

_I wonder what Angela is up to._

She ran her long, soaked fingers through his hair and down his face to clean them.

“Apologize.”

“S-Sorry. Master.”

“Very well. You can make it up to your Master another time.Get some rest, and I’ll see about undoing these restraints.” Not waiting for an answer she straightened up, spun on her heel and strode from the lab.

**Author's Note:**

> Next up Moira seeks out Mercy to take care of some unfinished business.


End file.
